"You're quiet." Hamish commented as he held his beaker over the flame.
"Most people don't think aloud." Sheryl glances up from the book on her lap.
"It helps." The boy answers honestly.
"Yes. And I appreciate the fact that you prefer me to the skull." She turns back to her book just as Hamish turns to look at her.
"You're much prettier."
"Than a skull?" She gives a short laugh, and notices him quickly refocus on his work, embarrassed. She gets up and, ducking under his arm, winds her arms around his waist.
"Daft git." She mutters affectionately into his shoulder. She has to stand on her tiptoes just to manage kissing his cheek.
"Sherly…" he cautions, afraid of her proximity to the open flame. She gives him a final squeeze and goes back to her book, leaving him to his experiment.
A few minutes later he puts the equipment away, having found a satisfying answer. He moves to flop on the couch across from her chair in a huff. He gives Sheryl a pleading look, but she attempts to keep reading.
Eventually he stands back up, easing the book from her hands then lifting her completely free of her chair.
"Hey." She mutters and he carries her to the couch. He keeps walking.
"I'll never catch up at school if you keep interrupting me whenever you want a cuddle." She says, grinning at the grey eyed boy.
"You can't say that I'm the only one who enjoys this." He replies smugly, leaning sideways slightly in order to secure her in the crook of his right arm as he sprawls across the cushions. Sheryl snuggles into him, glad that he remembered to be careful of her bad shoulder.
"No, I really can't. It's much easier to do this." She starts to run her fingers through his soft, thick curls, causing the boy to close his eyes. The sounds that escape him are most closely related to those of a contented cat.
"I can't think when you do that." The words come out in little bursts between purrs.
"Should I stop then?" She teases, reducing her movements to only the barest fluttering of his curly strands.
"God no." He breathes and she happily increases her efforts, feeling the rumbling of the sounds traveling through his chest.
Soon though, he opens one eye, as if to ask, 'My turn?'
She draws in a breath and nods.
He draws her up to where her face is even with his and brushes her hair back from her face. He trails a few kisses across her cheeks before succumbing to the temptation of her lips, bright pink and inviting.
She leans into him, her hands finding his shoulders and his arms wrapping around her. She almost sighs contentedly, until she feels a slight nip on her lower lip. It causes her heart to thump in her chest. Hard. She feels her breath hitch and Hamish notices, pulling away so that their foreheads are touching.
"Did I hurt you?" His eyes ask. She gives a small shake of her head. Hamish releases a disarming grin that sends her pulse skittering.
Before now the kisses were always short, gentle. Now they grow more passionate and Sheryl is all too happy to reciprocate. She decides repeat his trick, causing the boy to pull away in surprise.
"How was that?" She questions. He responds by pulling her tighter, eliminating what little distance they had between them. Then his lips brush hers slowly and she takes his invitation to nip a bit again.
Eventually the detective comes home to find the two asleep on the couch. He covers them up with a blanket he has recently collected from being in 'shock' again. Then Sherlock notes the hastily put away beakers and the haphazardly placed Bunsen burner. Irene comes in behind him, noticing the equipment and the sleeping teenagers and lets out a low laugh.
"Told you. Brainy is the new sexy." Then she grabs the detective's hand and the pair make their way to Angelo's for lunch.
